


No white horse (but your own words)

by symphorine



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Human, F/F, Implied Scott/Allison/Isaac, M/M, Mention of the Hale fire, Stiles Stilinski & Kira Yukimura Friendship, mention of past Jennifer Blake/Derek Hale, mention of past Kate Argent/Derek Hale - Freeform, mention of the Tates' car accident, sort of I mean I have no idea how coffee shops actually work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-04-29 11:56:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5126681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/symphorine/pseuds/symphorine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Kira are baristas in a coffee shop that sells pastries from the french bakery nearby. Derek and Malia are very, very regular customers, and not just for the sweet drinks and cakes.</p><p>Includes dealing with the realization of feelings, but not talking outright about said feelings. Because the past isn't easy to leave behind (but the future looks so promising sometimes).</p>
            </blockquote>





	No white horse (but your own words)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hazelandglasz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazelandglasz/gifts).



> I have to start by saying I probably abused creative license with this one. I have set foot in a coffee shop around two or three times, I have no idea how it works.
> 
> Second is, I'm glad I was able to participate, and I hope I did at least a little justice to the characters, seeing as I'm most familiar with them through fanfics than through canon.
> 
> Third thing is that english isn't my first language; while I had the time to smooth it out, any mistakes remaining - and they're there, don't doubt it - are entirely mine.
> 
> Finally, I hope you will enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. It's mostly fluff with a side of angst related to the bad experiences mentionned in the tags. I promise it ends well. They're just idiots who can't talk straight about their feelings.
> 
>  **hazelandglasz** , I hope this isn't too far from what you wanted, and I'm very sorry if it is.

 

The clouds were low and gray, like it was going to rain any second, that autumn kind of rain that felt like only a small drizzle but would soak you through, and last for hours, and leave behind a fresh smell and dark, wet pavement. Stiles regretted for a second not having grabbed his umbrella, but there were holes in it anyway. He'd been planning on buying a new one, but somehow he always forgot.

He could probably catch a ride with someone. His loyal blue Jeep had stayed in Beacon Hills, too old and beaten up to make the journey, and he only had his feet and the rare city buses that weren't so crowded he felt like he was suffocating. And the subway, though he wasn't a fan either. He was lucky the coffee shop was so close to his flat, or he wouldn't have had a choice.

The rain didn't start before he reached his destination, which he was grateful for. He'd filled out some since high school, but he still wasn't very impressive soaking wet, and looked more like a drowned cat than anything. Also he was pretty sure his bag wasn't actually waterproof and didn't want to have to dry everything in it by hand, which had already happened. Several times.

Kira was already behind the counter when he pushed the door, and she greeted him with enthusiastic waves from behind the line of clients, hersmile radiant.The warm air made the tip of his ears and nose tingle, and he returned her smile when he ducked the rushing customers trying to get back to their office as fast as possible without spilling the delicious and hot coffee everywhere.

Stiles got rid of his coat and scarf – he'd taken it from Isaac's collection weeks ago to see if he would notice; he hadn't – and put on the black apron, walking up besides Kira and hiding a sigh as the line split in two. It looked even more endless that way, like every morning.

They didn't get the time to exchange a word, busy with coffees and hot chocolates and cupcakes for nearly half an hour before the rush subsided and the quiet lull of soft conversations and spoons tinting in their cups fell once again on the coffee shop, raindrops falling on the window adding to the calm. He liked the smell, too: because the counter was just in front of the door, while people kept coming in and out, you would mostly smell the outside. That day it was the rain on the pavement, and on the soil around the many trees planted alongside the road. But once the door was closed, the sweet, soft smell of the drinks took over, mixing with the scent of the fresh pastries delivered from the french bakery two blocks down.

The transition from one another was one of his favorite parts of the job.

– _God_ , I'm already exhausted, Kira sighed dramatically as she leaned on the counter.

– You worked barely five more minutes than I did, Stiles teased her.

– It felt like five hours! Besides, I wasn't going to wait for you to show up before I opened. That would mean the end of the shop.

– Hey, I wasn't _that_ late. And I needed the sleep.

– Roommates still very... _happy_ about living together? she said while waggling her eyebrows.

– Yep. It's not like it's been _two months_ already or anything.

Stiles kn ew he sound ed more  exasperated than the situation call ed for, but honestly, he'd never needed to know so many things about the sexual habits of his best friend and his girlfriend and boyfriend.  _Never_ .  Kira laugh ed every time he  brought it up but he  was certain that if she had to live it, she would find it way less funny.

– I'm practically sure there is a clause about this in friendship contracts, and if there isn't, I can totally add it myself. Right now. I'll write it in my blood if necessary.

Kira rolled her eyes at his dramatic tone.

– Why don't you go with Allison's old roommate now? You've known Lydia for a long time too, right? Maybe you can work out something?

– Okay, I love Lydia, but I know for a fact that she would probably kill me if we tried. We aren't roommate material for each other. Sleepovers were hard enough on us.

– Excuse me?

Kira's eyes widened slightly and Stiles almost fell trying to turn back to face the clients. He felt his whole face change, morph into – not embarrassment, they were still past that point, at least if you asked him, but hope, maybe. It confused him.

– Yes, hi, sorry-

– Oh my god don't scare me like this-

He and Kira stuttered for a few seconds . Then again, a lot of things about Derek were confusing. Like his face, so expressive in it's economy of movements. Like his hate for pigeons, though Stiles had his own hypothesis, involving his leather jacket and unfortunate timing. Like why he was always more uncomfortable with new women than new men – he didn't really like people, that much was clear, but there had been a hint of panic in his eyes the first Kira had addressed him. Stiles hadn't pried on that one.

His fear of fire had been one of those, until Derek had explained it, with half-sentences and hard stares. Stiles had let him talk at his own pace, offering little comforting touches – they'd been close enough for that. They'd been closed enough for a lot of things to possibly happen, but he hadn't thought that Derek clamming up completely after talking about the fire had been one. Stiles had known, of course – he'd been curious once, had looked Derek and Malia up on the internet, and the first things he'd found were articles about the Hale fire.  He'd said so, and Derek had gripped his hand tighter, and they'd stayed silent for some time.

Then the next day, it was radio silence, and the next time Derek had come to the coffee shop, he'd been awkward and stiff. It made his presence there throughout the week, and that day again, part of the things that were confusing, too.

Kira recovered first.

– What would you like?

– Black coffee for me, hot chocolate for Grumpy here, Malia answered, aiming a grin at her cousin, then at Kira.

– Har har, so funny Malia, really, Derek sighed.

– I know, it's a talent.

S tiles practically heard the eye roll, catching a glimpse of them bickering from the corner of his eyes, while he was pouring  Derek 's drink into a mug. The urge to turn around and stare some more and maybe look into his eyes forever was strong, but he  _heroically_ –  he would emphasize that later, heroically –  resisted, and even managed not to spill anything as he put it on the counter, next to Malia's order. She  ended the conversation to pay, giving a twenty to Kira. She grabbed her drink and gestured for her  cousin to follow her, not waiting for them to count the change.

This time he saw the eye roll, as impressive as it usually was, but also the smile tugging at the corner of the guy's lips and the fond shake of his head, before he dug out his own wallet and counted the amount his coffee cost.

– Uhm, it's okay you know, she gave enough for-

– Yeah, but I don't like owing her money, Derek interrupted him. She keeps making me repay her by basically being her housekeeper. And it's more for you, right?

There was something startled in his expression when he finished his sentence, like he regretted having said so much, but before Stiles could say anything – it was more than he'd gotten in _days_ – in reply they heard Malia calling him.

– C'mon Derek, are you going to stand there all day? You've got my paper to review!

Derek didn't waste a second in joining her at a table and sitting back to them. Stiles  kept his eyes on them for as long as he could.  He'd been under the impression that they were friends,  at least ; for months now Malia and Derek had been coming here, him more often than her, chatting more and more with them until  they were on a first-name basis,  sometimes would hang out out of the shop, watching a movie all together. A nd then  they had started exchanging more private parts of their lives. He idly wondered if that was the cause of the sudden distance, if he'd maybe said too much, or pried too far.  If Derek hadn't wanted him to know that much, or to  _tell_ _him_ that much. The thought left him colder.

Kira nudged him hard with her elbow.

– I think your crush is even more terrible than mine.

– Like _you_ aren't making moon eyes at her.

– At least I can talk to her for more than three words.

– I don't know what got into him. Last week was fine, but he's barely said a word to me since.

– Maybe something came up with his work? Or at home? Kira suggested.

Stiles almost protested and said that Derek would have told him, before the stupidity of the statement hit him. He closed his mouth and twisted his lips down, contemplating. He did kind of know what had happened, but had failed to see how it would have caused such a big step backwards. Except for the hypothesis that Derek regretted telling him because he was, well, himself – rambling, restless himself – and he tried not to think too much about that.

– I don't know. Did Malia mention anything?

– Not really, no. But she-

– Uh, sorry?

They both turned to the new customer again, and resumed their work, stealing a few glances in the direction of the table where the Hale cousins were sitting.

*******

Derek was sent back to the counter by Malia, after a full minute of protesting that she could do it herself, while trying not to reveal how awkward he had felt talking to Stiles. He had a feeling Malia knew anyway, because he had been anything but subtle, and enjoyed it immensely.

– Go, you don't risk anything. At worst, you just will have to never set foot here again, she finally said, before ostensibly going back to her paper.

Derek sighed, as he was prone to do around Malia, and took their mugs with him for a refill. He felt the tips of his ears get redder and redder with each step. Repeating to himself that it was just asking for a refill, not for his hand – which he could see himself doing, but that wasn't the point – he reached the counter. It was Kira who greeted him again.

– A refill, please. One chocolate and one coffee, he added, pointing at each mug, though they'd been here so often the last few months that they'd probably remembered their orders.

– No problem, just wait here, Kira said.

She took the two mugs with her and turned around, making a small gesture towards the back, where Derek knew the employees – who were only them, plus two others guys named Liam and Mason, always on shift as these pairs – kept the pastries and ice creams, in a room on the left, and left their things in a room on the right.

Stiles had given him the tour a few weeks after they'd started coming, arguing that since he was almost living there, and he had kind of been at that point, he should know where things were. It had been a slow evening, and Derek had been alone at his table, as he often was when Malia had classes, working on the latest novel he had to translate. It had been one that made him uneasy, the writing decent but the story too close to his own history, and so he hadn't had to think twice before accepting the distraction.

He'd kept talking with Stiles long after closing hours, touching briefly the subject of their families, but more generally classes, books, and the bakery practically next door and its owners, a couple named Erica and Boyd, who came by sometimes as customers. It had been the real start of an easy friendship, that had lasted through the months, sustained by various drinks and walks after the shop had closed.

Until a week ago, when the brutal realization that he was falling for Stiles had destroyed everything. Well maybe not _destroyed_ , he had been a little dramatic about that, he was willing to admit it, but it had – _he_ , basically, had made it very awkward.

And now Stiles was coming and smiling at him, a little reserved and hesitant, and it wasn't the expression he wanted to see because Stiles deserved to smile normally, to smile like he didn't have a care in the world, free and radiant. Stiles deserved to be able to smile his full grin without reserve of any sort, knowing that the complicity was mutual and appreciated. He deserved to smile the warm smile Derek had seen more and more of, less bright but more intimate, feeling less like the blinding sunlight and more like the comforting fire in –

He was literally waxing poetics about Stiles' smile.  This was going to be  terrible .  It already was, really.

– Hey, Stiles said, dragging the word a little as his eyes looked for something on Derek's face. Everything okay?

– Yeah, yes, I just- Derek trailed off, gesturing at Kira.

– Oh.

Stiles' face morphed into a disappointed look for a second, but it left as fast as it had come, and Derek was facing suddenly the bright smile that wasn't his favorite anymore, not since he'd seen the others,  warmer, more sincere one .  He shifted imperceptibly, uncomfortable.

– Anything new since last week? Did you finish the translation for that fantasy thing? It looked cool.

– Yeah. Yes, thanks for asking. It, uh, I mean, I should hear back about it. Soon.

Derek didn't add anything, didn't know what to say other than ' _I'm pretty sure you're the love of my life but I have a terrible experience with romantic relationships and I don't want to fuck this up but I'm also pretty sure I love you_ ', which would have been both a disaster and a proof that he really wasn't all that good with words.  Not spoken ones anyway.

W ell, it was more a matter of not trusting his own words anymore, really. Being sincere, opening up,  _talking_ , always seemed to end up the same way: with him left behind, losing pretty much everything, and understanding that he'd made a bad decision once more. It had cost him people – his family, some friends – and his own person, sometimes.

And then, a week ago, he'd told Stiles about the fire – and Stiles knew already, of course he knew, but it didn't change the fact that Derek had trusted him enough to delve into carefully tucked away memories. It had hurt a little less, this time, but it wasn't until he almost let Kate's name slip past his lips that he realized how truly deep into it he was. And he could deal with thinking about her now, about her betrayal, but he had been confronted to the sudden realization that he was willing to put his heart in Stiles hands, and he'd frozen.

He never had the good words for anything – and he sometimes appreciated the irony in that – so he'd fled. And now, looking at Stiles as he was putting their mugs on a red tray, even after mulling it over for days, he still didn't find even one.

He took the tray without look at Stiles, focusing on his hands, and mumbled a weak “Thank you” before he turned his back on him and joined Malia,  eyes on his destination, for fear that he would look back . She didn't even raise her head when he gave her her coffee,  immersed in her paper. Only when he moved his own mug did Derek find the three small  _viennoiseries_ .  They were his favorite kind; he wasn't actually a big cupcake fan, but the small french pastries were delicious. There was a croissant, a  _chocolatine_ and raisin bread, all three in a triangle. He'd never felt so many things looking at food.

Derek did look back then, but Stiles was nowhere to be seen. He resumed his staring at the three pastries. Any other day he'd have savored the m-- you didn't wolf them down, they were  _expensive as shit_ and- and Stiles had offered them, a small gesture that was probably a tentative of apologies. Derek sighed.  _ He _ was the one who had to apologize, the one who had fucked up. He didn't dare to touch the food, his stomach clenching at the thought of Stiles thinking this was his fault, somehow.

After long minutes, Derek turned to his laptop and opened a new document, his fingers hovering above the keys, hesitant. He didn't know what to write, didn't know where to begin. Other people's words were fine, he could work with it, but Stiles deserved his own words. It didn't have to be poetry – he didn't like poetry all that much since Jennifer anyway – but he deserved something coming from Derek. And Derek, Derek knew, that he had to write it down for himself, too.

He finally started typing, clumsy words that shaped his thoughts in something real, something tangible, something he could work with, edit and reformulate, and  _ he could do this _ .

***

Kira shook her head as they started closing for the day. A last call to customers still lingering in the coffee shop, including Derek and Malia, and then she let Stiles bring back the unsold pastries where they belonged. Most of them wouldn't be good the next day, so they'd get to bring them home with them, but the owner – they'd seen her only once, the day she hired them – was very firm on not wasting what could still be sold.

She'd been so sure this state of things wouldn't last – that Stiles and Derek would get to each other and stop the awkwardness of the last few days – but nothing had happened, other than two stilted conversations during which Derek looked like he was ready to run away.

As she cleaned the counter though, rubbing at the few stains left by drops of coffee, Derek came by, letting Malia go through the door ahead with a cheerful wave, after she picked one of the few cupcakes left on the counter. Kira left them there for that purpose every time Malia stayed until closing time; there were always a few pastries left even when she'd shared with Stiles, anyway. Kira returned the wave before she set her attention on her cousin, reminded that she really didn't have a lot of room to judge. Things couldn't be qualified as _awkward_ between her and Malia, precisely, but there was a tension, had been for some time, building up, with smiles and looks and touches that she wasn't sure how to interpret,  and hadn't acted upon.

– Yep? she said, looking at Derek.

He met her eyes for a brief second then ducked his head, his hand rubbing at his neck. Usually he would take a leftover little cakes, but he didn't even look at them. He held out something in the other hand, a paper folded in four, with Stiles' name written in neat, if a little rigid, capital letters.

– Could you please give this to Stiles? Derek enunciated, carefully, like he didn't want to mess up the words.

– Yeah, sure, but why don't you-

– Thank you, he interrupted her, and bolted through the door as fast as he could.

There was nobody left  in the room  except for her. The silence felt eerie after hearing low chatter all day, drowning in the sounds of cups and spoons  and chairs , and the rain falling outside, that had finally stopped  late in the afternoon.

Stiles came out of the back room and joined her. She didn't miss the hopeful glance he threw in the direction of the table where the Hale cousins had sat for most of the day, and the way his lips tightened when he saw no one left there. Kira held out the paper in front of him, stopping him in his tracks.

– What's that? he asked as he took it and began to unfold it.

– I don't know. Derek left it for you.

Stiles looked up at the name, eyebrows raised in a silent question, but Kira tilted her head towards the paper in Stiles hand, and he stared at the words she could see through the material.

The way his eyes widened as a smile spread across his face was enough to tell her that her feeling had been right, after all. He raised his head and then read the letter again, rendered speechless. When he finally looked at her again, at a loss for words, Kira laughed and hugged him, twirling in front of the counter.

– He's, I mean, he's waiting for-

Stiles eyes were riveted to the door, and though he was embracing Kira in return, she didn't have the heart to deprive him from what was probably going to feel like one of the best nights of his life.

– Go get him, I'll finish here, she offered.

– Oh thank god, I'll- I'll repay you, I don't know how- Thanks Kira, you're amazing!

She watched him go with a fond smile, catching a glimpse of an anxious Derek before the door closed behind Stiles. She stayed there a moment, smiling to herself, then shook her head fondly and set to closing the shop for the night.

***

The following day she opened alone again, not surprised at the absence of her co-worker or of Derek as the day went. She however had the good surprise of finding Malia standing in front of her a few minutes after the afternoon rush.

– Hey, she smiled.

– Looks like Derek and Stiles finally got it together, she commented, making a rather suggestive gesture with her hands. I thought he was going to mope _forever_.

– Didn't he say that he's had bad experiences before though?

– He's been crushing on Stiles for _weeks_. They were already closer than he's ever been with anyone, Malia snorted.

– Still, he's allowed to be hesitant, Kira shrugged.

She had gathered rather early that Malia wasn't exactly the type to take naturally people's feelings into consideration, used to going on with her life and looking forward, never back, never at others or her own actions. She said that it was better that way, with less room for doubt, and that she could deal with whatever consequences when it presented itself. But after several concerned reminders, she'd started grudgingly considering them when Kira made her, like she was doing now. It made Kira happy, knowing that Malia acknowledged what she said; made it her own, sometimes.

But her remark also made her think. They'd known each other for about as much time as Derek and Stiles, and Kira knew there was the potential for something there. She'd tentatively joked, made allusions – more often than not following Stiles innuendos, at first – and Malia has responded in kind, but she'd never really been brave enough to make a move herself. What if she'd misinterpreted it? What if they didn't work at all? What if Malia grew tired of her? The thought terrified her.

– I guess he is, Malia finally answered. But it was really becoming unbearable, all the talking about Stiles. I mean, don't get me wrong, I like him too, but not to the point that _I_ want him to be in _every_ aspect of my life.

– Is there such a person? You do look like you'd be picky about that, Kira teased.

– Maybe. If they could face the situation and ask me.

Malia looked directly into her eyes as she spoke, eyebrows raised in challenge.

– And why don't you ask them yourself?

– Maybe I'm secretly a big romantic who likes to be properly wooed, Malia grinned. Maybe my dream is to be swept away on a white horse.

– Very secretly then, Kira mock-sighed.

Malia sobered up, a more serious look on her face.

– Yeah, well, we can't all be open to everyone, you know.

The mood suddenly shifted to a heavier tone, a lot less prone to the light flirting they'd been doing. Kira didn't really know how to answer that; there was obviously something behind the words, but she doubted Malia would want to discuss it there in the open, if at all.

– Same as usual? she finally offered.

– Yes, please.

The smile was back, though smaller than before. Kira quickly poured the coffee into a mug – she'd baptized it Malia's mug, a large round cup painted with yellow and blue flowers, her favorite – before she handed it to her. Malia gave her the money and nodded before she went to her usual table, one that she most probably wouldn't have to share today.

Kira served three people over the next ten minutes and, once it looked like everything had slowed down, she called Stiles.

– Hey, are you awake?

– _It's_ _the middle of the afternoon. I know I'm not an early riser, but you should have more faith in me, seriously._

– Is Derek with you? Kira asked softly, eyes fixed on Malia's back.

– _Uh, I mean, yes, but why? And before you imagine anything, we did not-_

– You can tell me later, but right now I need both of you to help me.

– _Hold on, I'm putting you on speaker._

– _Hello, Kira_ , Derek chimed in, sounding more relaxed than he had in days.

– Okay, guys, I need to seduce Malia.

There was a brief pause at the other end of the line.

– _I thought it was already pretty much what you were doing?_ Stiles asked.

– I know, but I mean – grand gestures, flowers, speeches kind of seducing.

– _That_ _could be a good idea, actually_ , Derek said slowly. _She really does read a lot of romantic stuff for someone who pretends to h_ _ate_ _romance movies._

– _That's because half of them are terrible, I think._

– Right, but _how_ do I do that?

Another pause, and she could almost imagine them glancing at each other, having a silent conversation, like they did so often.

– _Give us some time and we'll call you back?_ Stiles proposed.

– Yes. Okay. Thank you so much, she sighed.

She hung up and combed through her hair with her fingers, looking at the pastries display as if she was going to find the beginning of an idea there. It would be incredibly convenient, because she didn't have a clue where to start, and she was pretty sure that there was a timer on this. They'd danced around each other for a while, but Malia's words had felt – definite, somehow. Like an ultimatum. She'd made it clear she couldn't put herself out there just like that.

It was her move.

***

Malia had spent the day working with people, for a group project in a class she didn't particularly care about; when she finally came home, she felt exhausted. It had been boring, uninteresting, and she didn't even know the people in her group all that well, didn't want to. They seemed content enough to let her be once she'd done her share of the project, and after that it had mostly been a question of when and how would it be appropriate to leave, the sooner the better.

“Home” was a large apartment she shared with her cousin Cora. Laura lived with her girlfriend, and Derek had gone off on his own as early as he could, away from his two sisters who, as much as he loved them, were quite bent on annoying him. His words, not Malia's, though she saw his point more often than not. They _could_ be quite overbearing, Laura especially, and liked to have fun at the expense of their brother, though it never went really as far as being actually mean.

But what was left of the Hale family had accepted her. Not without a hitch, of course, but with minimal obstacles, considering the situation they'd all been in after she'd resurfaced, having just learned the identity of her biological father. The accident had hit her hard, though not as hard as she'd wished at the time, and the fire had left a scar that would probably never quite heal in the Hale siblings' hearts. She still marveled sometimes at how little time it'd taken for them to form their own odd little family. Living with them had become a comfort, which had surprised her, and better than she'd expected. Even with the four of them, it had felt like – like _home_.

And Cora was easy to live with. They were similar in ways that made their cohabitation work, which Malia was grateful for, because it made her life incredibly simple, compared to what she saw in her rare friends' lives. Neither of them held back when something needed saying, both of them ate relatively healthy, and Malia had stopped sleepwalking a long time ago, having only the occasional episode now. They both usually preferred to work in silence, and rarely forgot when they were on grocery shopping duty.

Another fact that probably contributed to the lasting of their living together was that they had radically different hours, which meant that there was little time for conflict, as they weren't home at the same time a lot. The time spent together was all that much better, relaxed and safe.

Malia threw her bag at the feet of the couch and let herself sink in it, a sigh escaping her lips. She was grateful for the few hours of solitude. People were still not her cup of tea, and there were few that she felt comfortable enough with to spend several hours with. Fewer even that she had – or _made_ the occasion to see more then every other week. Her classmates weren't among them.

Derek understood. That was primarily why they'd started hanging out, just the two of them. They'd come back to the coffee shop for different reasons, the first being that the pastries were as delicious as the drinks, the second that they were making friends – and they'd needed support through it, both of them. They'd never said it, not clearly, but for her part, Malia knew she'd been scared shitless for a while, never mind the careless life philosophy she tried to apply.

People, especially people they liked, tended to die or leave. Getting close – that meant being hurt, sooner or later. Cora and Laura disagreed with them on the way they reacted to it, but they'd never really been able to completely protest. _Caring_ meant that somewhere down the line, there would be trouble, and trouble – trouble had meant being abandoned. Trouble had meant leaving the foster families she'd become accustomed to. Trouble had meant, when she'd finally found stability and people who cared back – it meant the accident.

Keeping close meant you had to be ready for that to happen again – Malia still wasn't always sure that even the handful of people she considered important in her life wasn't too many, too much.

There was a knock on the door and Malia groaned loudly. With any luck, it was just some kind of door-to-door seller, or a neighbor who wanted sugar – they could go ask someone else. But the knocking came back after a few seconds, accompanied by a voice muffled by the door.

– Hey, it's Kira. Is anybody here?

This got Malia scrambling up to her feet. Kira was one of the few people she genuinely liked spending time with; and also part of the even fewer that she would seek out intentionally. And she'd been anticipating – something, after their conversation a few days before. She had returned only once since, with Derek, and they had barely made small talk, but Kira'd had a small, secret smile, and she'd been hoping-

She didn't feel as tired anymore.

– Hey, she greeted as she opened the door. What's up?

Kira had a bouquet in one hand and her bag on her shoulder, fidgeting. Her cheeks were a lovely red, and Malia felt a smile tug at her lips. She wasn't sure if she was amused by the adorable way Kira was searching her words, or if it was to mask the way her own heartbeat picked up.

– Hey, Kira finally settled, presenting the flowers. I brought these for you.

They were colorful, though not particularly beautiful, not like the perfect ones you'd find in most flower shops. But their scent hit Malia almost immediately, sweet and light, making the air almost feel purer. She took them with a sincere smile, one she knew was making her face look strangely open. With almost anyone else, she'd have felt vulnerable.

– Come in, she offered instead, stepping aside so that Kira could get past her.

She closed the door and set to find something that could work as a vase. Her eyes fell on the carafe that neither she nor Cora ever used, and she went to fill it with water before tucking the flowers in it. She made the effort to arrange them a little, both to buy a few seconds and because she knew Kira was watching her.

When she was done though, there were a few seconds of silence. She didn't quite know what to do; she _had_ expected something, but now that said something was happening, she felt a little lost.

– I-I, uhm. I wanted to invite you to a date – the kind you see in movies, where we'd go out and eat, and talk, and then go look at the stars or something romantic like that, Kira finally said, her voice firm after the first few words. But, she added as she looked up to meet Malia's eyes, I know you don't really like being out. Not having a way to get out of a room filled with people. So I thought it might be better to do something here?

_On familiar ground_ , Malia thought, and she was grateful. Though she wouldn't have minded seeing Kira's place either.

– And I know you said grand gestures, but... But I thought, maybe I should discuss the limits with you first? I brought food and, like, five movies recommended by Stiles' friend, she added, tapping lightly at her bag.

Malia considered saying it didn't really matter,  as long as it Kira did something, because she was pretty sure she could never go wrong with anything , but shrugged instead, saying it was okay with her. She wasn't going to turn down a night with Kira, snuggled up on the couch – as close as they'd dare – watching movies. She'd have to make sure not to be too focused on them – she had a  _reputation_ , dammit, people couldn't know she cried in front of pretty much everything, she'd never hear the end of it,  she could hear her family's mocking remarks from here – but she was fairly certain that finding a distraction wasn't going to be a problem.

***

The next day, she  was greeted at the coffee shop with a second bouquet, and everyone's attention as Kira asked her out, blushing as red as the strawberries in their little cakes. Malia let the moment stretch for a few seconds, and they both knew it was for show,  because the  _yes_ had been unspoken but there since the previous evening. 

She'd actually had a pretty good idea of what Kira had been preparing, this time, but beyond expecting it, she hadn't decided what she would do. She'd thought about hugging her. About kissing her lightly, just enough for an answer. Kissing her more, better, like she'd wanted to for so long. When she reached for Kira's hand, it wasn't planned.

She intertwined their fingers, looked at their hands, palms against each other.

– Yes, she answered softly.

– Sorry I didn't get a white horse, Kira said, and the light in her eyes felt worth taking the risk of being close to someone again.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I forgot to study for two tests for this. Totally worth it.
> 
> Also you guys definitely need to update your vocabulary concerning french pastries. I never found the equivalent of _chausson aux pommes_.
> 
> To any french people reading this: c'est une chocolatine et je défendrai ce terme jusqu'à la fin de mes jours.


End file.
